Chapter 09 – Where is my baby?
For a long time, November had still been awake, lying in her bed, and time and again, she had recalled what had happened here earlier between her and House. She was happy about it. She smiled, when before her inner eye the image of herself in House´s arms, or the scene, in which they stood opposite each other, hugging. Whether she wanted or not. Eventually, she fell asleep, firmly wrapped into the blanket, in the seat in House´s office. The exhaustion caused by the intoxication let her sleep without problems. However, she dreamt badly.
In the corridors, slowly the usual bustle was starting anew. That November was not in her room was no surprise for anybody anymore. They simply left her breakfast there and would come to pick it up later as with all patients.
Tensely, November still lay in the seat and slept.
Suddenly, she found herself in the belly of a big bear. Not exactly pleasant, but safe. Here, nobody would find her. She made use of the moment to sort her thoughts. Images of House appeared before her. The two of them here in the office just now, with that special mood. She in his arm, both of them on the roof. But then, the happenings she was right in the middle of, claimed her full attention again. She was on the run. She rather ran away than risking something was done to her friends. So, they both were on the run so to speak – November and the bear – away from those who were hunting them. It was dark, where she was now. She was being given a thorough shaking and there was no question of orientating herself. Fear rose up in November. Fear of whether she could escape or would be caught yet? A few minutes later, she would know better. For an endless second, her breath caught. As she could virtually smell it. The bullet. More than clearly, she could feel the pain in her foot. But there were yet more of them on her heels. "Run, run! There is a bullet in your back"* she heard herself call out in fear to warn the bear. Even if her own life seemed at stake just now, she still wanted to keep all of this away from Ben and House and as long as they were busy with her, they would not harm the others. "RUN!" November screamed loudly once more in her dream.
House entered the office, stopped and saw November lying there, still asleep. She lay there exactly as he had left her some hours ago. However, he noticed right away that her body was tense and her head and arms were jerking this way and that, again and again. Obviously, she had a bad dream. She was talking in her sleep, not clearly but still intelligibly. "Run, run, run," she repeated several times, flinching heavily at that. Aiming at saving her from her restless sleep, House extended his cane to touch November´s calf with it and to jolt her awake. But just as he had extended his arm, she startled and rose.
November perceived the blurry outline of a figure and something long, threatening. She yelled. "Don´t shoot!" she screamed in the direction of the person standing there in front of her and took a defensive stance, her hands on her shin in a protective manner.
"Hands up!" House said in a sharp tone and lowered his cane again with a smile. "No worries, I won´t shoot at you. You´ve just been dreaming badly again," he remarked, popping one of his Vicodin and observing November interestedly while she was waking up.
Hearing this familiar voice felt good and slowly, November allowed herself to sink back. Gradually, the tension fell off her and her body slowly relaxed. Still, she lay in the chair with her face slightly contorted with pain, as a cramp in her foot was causing her more and more discomfort. She tried to ignore the pain. At the same time, she tried to find out, where she actually was. What ceiling was it that she was staring at right now, where did she lay? Her gaze fell on the door to the conference room and then slowly in House´s direction. She briefly closed her eyes and then it dawned on her. Bit by bit, the memory returned and with it the relief. Her foot still hurt. She had to get up for this to stop and emerged from the woolen blanket but her lacking balance, as so often right after waking, put a spoke in her wheel.
Curiously, House watched how November was trying to get up but just could not make it happen. For a short second, he wondered whether to lend her a hand to make it easier for her – but decided against it in this very moment. After all, he could not stand it himself when someone offered to help him right away, just because he could not perform some move at the first go. Apart from that, he knew this situation only too well! As his leg threw him back on his bed in the mornings occasionally as well, without wanting it at all. If November deemed his help necessary, she would let him know somehow.
She needed three attempts until she finally was on her feet. Then, she stumbled and staggered with several rough steps in diverse directions past House. However, not without clinging to his forearm. Decidedly and securely, House reached for November and saved her from kissing the floor. He had not been mistaken! This time, she sought his support. "Everything okay?" he asked with calm voice, before he let go of her arm again. Wordlessly and barely nodding, November staggered onward to the glass door, latching on to it and pressing her forehead against its cool surface. "I missed the white rabbit. I´m later than time," she muttered sleepily.
One brow raised, House looked at November. „If that is the case, I am the mean Cheshire Cat!" he commented with a mean smile and contorted his face to an overdone, grinning and utterly unsightly grimace.
With a dull and blurry view, her brow furrowed, November looked at House. She paused for a few seconds and the room filled with silence, before, facing House, she asked with pensive voice, "Am I in fact immortal, if time is faster than me and I had thus left it behind? If I was timeless? Would I not leave death behind as well with it? Could I then silence death? Strictly speaking, I would actually have him before me and not breathing down my neck and could kill him…" she interrupted her abstract considerations for a second, before she continued, again furrowing her brow broodingly, "If I can do that… am I not death then in fact?" Without waiting for a reply, she left him standing there and disappeared in the direction of her room, still staggering perilously. She still needed a few steps and the corridor´s handrail until she had found her balance and her rhythm again and was able to walk straight securely. Her convulsive foot had calmed down in the meantime.
Now it was House who furrowed his brow, peaked out of his office, along the corridor, and watched how November headed for her patient room, clinging to the handrail. In his head, he repeated her words, Am I not death then in fact? – Yes, he did ask himself this question as well, at times, when he looked in the mirror in the morning!
With a small sigh, House put down his bag. He had brought back November´s sweat jacket and her album as well. After this so eventful night, he hoped that the return of these two things would cheer her up somewhat. Especially, since November now, as she had quite naturally relocated to his office, would not depend on her small MP3 player but could take advantage of his stereo to listen to music. He looked at the chair which November had occupied until just some minutes ago. Somehow, it felt good to know she had passed the night here. Which simply might have been due to the aftereffects of the stuff she had taken the previous evening, though.
Standing in his office, House inevitably felt reminded of November´s warm embrace. While she was in her "official" room and freshened up – what she by all appearances urgently needed – he would go off to obtain the "Medi Crunch" for her. However, no sooner had he turned to the door than he froze in the middle of the motion, his eyes fixed on the desk in panic. For an unbearable long moment, he held his breath and his heart skipped a few beats. The bowl! It was EMPTY! – Where else always lay his felt ball so silent and familiar, now an enormous blank space gaped on his desk. Where had it gone? Frantically, House glanced under the table. It had not come off either! His eyes nervously darted around the room. Neither was it in the shelf! If the ball was not in this office, someone must have had taken it with them?! But who?
It was out of the question that it had been someone from his team! They knew what his ball meant to him and that he, without any hesitation, would give notice, if he would be able to prove the purloinment of Bally against one of them! That Cuddy might have laid hands on his baby, was absurd at a glance! What should she be doing with an oversized tennis ball? – So, November and Wilson were left in the basket! But he had just now watched November leaving his office. She had not carried anything in her hand and she would never have been able to hide the ball under her gear either. – So it was Wilson after all! Traitor, House thought with contempt and made for the oncology ward at a rapid pace.
Once she had reached her room, November plunked herself down in her wheelchair and tried to comprehend what had happened just now. The dream, the thoughts she had pondered just now … but exhaustion did not let her succeed. Instead, she had to focus on staying alert, freshening up, changing her gear. All of that took an endlessly long time, since November felt so drained and more exhausted with every move she made.
The last yards to Wilson´s office in front of him, House feverishly tried to reconstruct where he had seen Bally the last time!? – This morning it had been gone already, that much was certain. But what about last evening? Was it gone yesterday already? The intensive mood with November around had caught his full attention. Her look, her words, her head against his shoulder – all that stood before his eyes without a gap, but his gray-red buddy…? House could for the life of him not remember whether his ball had been in its place at night or not! Perhaps it was yet November who had taken it? She was the only one he had given unrestricted access to his office, and who in all likelihood did not know about the close relationship between him and his favorite item, after all! Even before he had reached Wilson´s office door, he turned around on his heels and hurried back to the diagnostic ward.
When November had finally managed to freshen up, change her clothes and brush her teeth, mainly to get rid of the taste of her intoxication, she put Bally on her lap and rolled along the corridor. Still exhausted but distinctly fitter than before, she stood once more right in the middle of his office 60 minutes later and again parked her wheelchair next to the wall. The office was empty. House apparently was out and about. Somewhat disappointed, November took Bally in her hand, got up from the wheelchair and stood in front of House's desk. Shortly afterwards, the sound of fast breathing made November spin around. House stood in the doorway, his hand propped against the doorframe and gasping for breath. His widened eyes dropped to the item November held in her left hand. "You…," he began with threatening voice, but stopped in the same moment, gasping.
November raised the gray-red felt ball in the air meaningfully, "… well I think you should name him Garry-Wilson Jr." The confused look of House caused her to add, "Yes, your ball, not to be confused with your balls. Those presumably are rather called Max and Moritz." That was the revenge for last time, she thought to herself and remembered their first argument here, some days ago, which had started with his comment about "men looking up a woman's skirt".
House did not know what to answer. He had not expected such a snappy remark after November´s first appearance this morning. Apart from the fact that he was not even able to answer, since he still was gasping for breath. Only his eyes betrayed what he thought in this moment.
„Huge ego is too much for your balls, sorry**. The big ego matches most likely your genius, I guess." November paused for a moment, after having spoken this sentence as well just so and did not really know where she took it from so suddenly. "Yes, I´m done now, your turn. Go ahead and shoot at me! Nothing can happen to me, after all, I am death, after all." Again, she briefly paused, looking up to the ceiling with a pensive expression and musing, "Even if I´d probably have an angel´s face as death. Which, however, would result in an interesting contradiction."
Perplexedly, House stared at November, still unable to give an answer. With a furtive look, he followed November, while he himself walked around his desk and slumped down into his chair.
November sat down as well and curiously waited for House´s reaction. With each subsequent time that she sat on this chair, she felt more comfortable in this office. From where she took this quick-wittedness this morning, she did not know. Was it due to the events of the past night perhaps, that made her so confident? Or was it just tiredness and the hangover of her jag that let her think and speak out so unfiltered?
It still took a moment until his pulse and breathing had returned to normal again. "That´s my baby! Give it to me!" were the first words House managed after having found his tongue. He bent over the edge of the desk hastily, wanting to grab at the ball, but his arm was much too short to reach November at the other end of the room.
November pulled back her arm instinctively and lowered it immediately after. "Well, my dear House, if I think about it thoroughly" and she held her hand with Bally in it in staged pondering, made a deliberate pause, lowered her arm again and continued to talk, "If I think about it thoroughly, it is OUR baby."
She still felt the exhaustion, spreading throughout her whole body.
Baffled, House looked at November while he lowered his arm again. What the heck did she mean with "OUR" baby? It took another breath while he kept staring at her incredulously, until he had regained his countenance and could vent his anger. "Not that I know of," House began and he had a hard time staying calm, "…you having any rights to this ball!" Still, his gaze was fixed on the ball. "And now give it to me!" he repeated almost doggedly and again extended his hand demandingly.
November´s glance as well briefly fell on the ball, which she now had clutched gingerly with both hands. "I had to pass that miserable day yesterday with someone, after all!" she countered House´s remark. "He was the only one close to you and also he was the only one who kept his mouth shut – unlike this Cameron!" November added angrily because the memories came back again. She took a deep breath, her hands still closed around Bally firmly, and looked at House challengingly.
House returned November´s glance grimly. He was not sure himself what drove him to speak his nxt words out so openly and honestly, but he simply had to get something off his chest. "You are my patient – no problem! You´re calling in the deep of the night – okay, too! You like it best to sleep in my chair – fair enough! But, you rearrange my office and pinch things – not okay!" Upset and strained to bursting point, House jumped up from his chair and forgot completely his handicapped leg, which caused him to trip. He had to break his fall by supporting himself on the tabletop to avoid face planting it. Only now he realized that he had talked himself into a rage and had overdone it a bit. Why he had snapped at November so rudely, he did not know any longer in this moment. It might have been that her remark from just now had offended him more than he wanted to admit to himself.
"So you´re thinking I´m your office upside down just so that your ball disappears?!" November asked confusedly and upset. "Where, anyway?!" she continued to ask, before she got silenced by House's tripping. "He´s doing well, anyway! Bally isn´t lacking anything!" she said with serious and at the same time insistent voice and watched House straighten up again. Still, she held the gray-red felt ball firmly with both hands. She paused for a moment and then, looking deep into his eyes, asked, "Why don´t you want to share him? Believe me, I know what is good for him as well."
House had picked himself up again and was sitting on the chair at the other side of his desk and thus November – who was sitting on the edge of his chair – right opposite him. While he had just gotten himself under control with pain and misery, her next words fueled his anger anew. "I simply don´t want to share him, because I never share with others," he snarled at her. "And why Gary of all things?" he added aggressively without conscious thought.
Having House so close in front of her, felt good to her, calmed her enraged inner self. And it let her feel the feebleness deep inside her body once again. Her eyes fell on the ball in her hands. She lifted it to eye level. „Not sharing is somethin' for big brothers. You´re my doctor." November argued against his reply. „Why not Garry?" she continued, „You don´t think it suits him? The double name it rather nice, after all, he is two-colored anyhow," she replied calmly with a gentle look at the ball in her hands. She would have liked best to lay down, as exhaustion was getting the better of her in this moment, but she pushed it away and pressed Bally against her forehead for a moment as a relief.
The closeness to November put the stops on his quick temper and let him ease up. Now she was starting to talk about "big brothers" as if that thought had not attacked him already once in a different context. Namely, yesterday on the ride home, when he had tried to explain to himself what had happened there between him and her – and the thought had occurred to him that November had been looking for protection like with a trusted big brother… House averted his eyes from November and Bally and moved a hand over his face. He sighed. "Whatever," he said somewhat on the edge. "Call him Garry, if you insist." House raised his head and looked back to November. He was not sure but he thought to notice a certain tiredness in her eyes.
November returned his look briefly and a smile flit over her face. The hangover from last night now was approaching increasingly evident and unstoppable. She was freezing. The goosebumps could not be concealed without a jacket and the slight trembling neither. Her elbows propped on her knees and holding Bally with both hands at her chin, she still sat in the chair. She looked him in the eye again and somewhat feebly asked, "Do we have to battle over custody now too?"
"No, we don´t have to," he replied, looking at the ball. „We'll divide the right of custody." A slight smile played around House´s lips. Somehow November had softened him up with her playful nature or it was due to her presence doing him so well and he simply enjoyed being here with her. Finally, he had to agree with her, a double name for a two-colored ball was completely legitimate and if he could imagine sharing such a personal item with anybody in the world at all, then it was November!
"I´ll take good care of him," she promised to him genuinely and earnestly. She had noticed that this ball meant at least as much for him as it did to her, after all – much more even, else he would not have reacted in such an upset way. After all, she herself knew the feeling of "strangers" taking care of her companion just like that quite well. So, she also knew how important it was to take good care of such things.
House eyeballed her slim upper body. She was wearing a t-shirt and the many fine hairs standing up could not be overlooked. "You are cold," he commented with an understanding look into her gray-blue eyes, remembering the jacket and the album in his bag again.
November gave a silent nod in reply to House´s remark, lowered her head and pressed Bally against her forehead again. The feeling of this pleasant pressure was good. „Forgot to take a fresh jacket," she added curtly.
House pushed himself up from the chair and walked over to his backpack. "Here," he said, pulling November´s jacket out and came back to her, "you left it in the lobby yesterday." With an amicable look, he passed November her jacket.
November raised her head. A relieved smile played around her mouth. She took the felt ball from her forehead. Pondered for a moment. Setting it down next to her just like that now would not match to what she had just promised to him, also, House just had said something like "We´ll divide the right of custody". So, she held the ball out to him. "Will you take care of Bally?" she said with a smile and took her jacket from him to put it on. It felt better and more comfortable right away. Still – the weightiness in body and soul did not want to leave her.
House returned her smile, took the ball from November and put it back in its place, in the bowl. Pensively, his look was fixed on November. Even if she had freshened up and changed clothes, she still seemed rather exhausted and tired. He could read in her face how much her body and soul were affected by the last night. "Did you have your Medi-Crunch breakfast today already?" House finally said, after he had simply watched her for a while.
November sat in the chair, tense and looking into a void. Her spasm was giving her an especially hard time this morning. Mostly in her thighs, her muscles were plagued by a continuous tension of pulling and throbbing. Which in some moments even became an unbearable tearing. It virtually drove her mad that it simply did not want to disappear. Again and again, she rubbed over both her thighs, hoping it would improve. But it only worked for a few seconds, then everything was as if it never had been any different again. Annoyed by this condition, she answered House, "No, I didn´t. Where is this goddamn Cockaigne when you need it?!"
House had not missed that November relentlessly rubbed her hands over her thighs, either. From her slightly insolent reply he took that the pain she felt probably was more than just an unpleasant pulling. He thought of his own leg, which thankfully was acting peacefully at the moment and did not really bother him. In a cheerful tone, he addressed November. "That´s convenient," he said and took his mall orange-colored tin out. "You want one of those again?" He held the tin out to November, adding "If I recall rightly, the previous medication had some unwanted side effects. It´s getting time to adjust your medication regime."
November smiled a bit and nodded in agreement. "Such a vitamin A hangover is no fun indeed," she added, audibly relieved. With shining eyes, November looked at the orange-colored tin in House´s hands. "Give it to me already!" she said delightedly and extended her fingers. House dropped one of the white tablets in the palm of her hand. November moved it into her mouth with dash right away and swallowed hard. For a moment, it felt like release, even if nothing had happened yet. But the knowledge of it now surely being over soon was enough at this instant. November closed her eyes and let herself fall across the chair on her back.
It was a bit strange, at the same time, though, very familiar. House watched November simply letting herself fall backwards in his chair. The coveted release was virtually written all over her face. Like no one else, he knew how one felt in this situation. One hand placed on her stomach, November inhaled and exhaled evenly. House suddenly got an idea! He walked to his backpack again, taking care so that November would not move. He took her album out and walked over to the stereo. With a brief look over his shoulder, he made sure that November really still had her eyes shut. He inserted the CD, pressed Play and curiously waited for November´s reaction.
As November heard the familiar sounds, a great sense of happiness flooded through her and almost childlike joy, which showed in a very broad smile on her face. Glad to finally hear her companion after such incredibly long time, she listened carefully to the first song, highly focused and immersed in every single note. Her fingers moved to the beat gently at that, before she found the time to wonder how the album even had found its way here. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, opened her eyes and turned her head to House. With shining eyes and the still big smile, she asked incredulously, "… you have it…?"
House could not hide the joy about his successful surprise at all. Novembers happy smile and her obvious joy pushed a hearty grin on his face. He stopped the CD and put it back in its case. "Yes," he replied in confirmation, as he walked to November and handed it to her. "I had the album with me the last few days and listened to it repeatedly."
As November still occupied his chair, House yet felt the urgent need to relieve his leg, he used his cane to pull the crème coloured footstool close to him and sat down on the small piece of furniture, right at November´s side. Contently, he looked at her and even though he did not touch her, House felt so close to her again, like last night. There was only him and her. And all that what they shared.
While November just had wanted to warn House alarmingly that she would take it the wrong way if he would not have treated her companion well, this want inside her died away immediately as he sat down next to her. And once again, she enjoyed the closeness and everything he could give her with his aura in this moment. November felt very much reminded of the past night and paused for a moment to soak it all up. Then she straightened and with a smile in her voice, yet decidedly, said, "I hope you didn´t harm a hair on his head!" It was only now, that she realized how House must have felt just now, when Bally simply had disappeared.
"Do we have to battle over custody now?" House repeated the sentence that November had tossed at him with a feigned serious voice and verbatim. With a meaningful glance, he looked her in the eye.
November straightened and returned his look with a smile. In spite of the pretended earnestness, there was reliability and safety in his voice and she knew that he would treat her album just as mindfully as she his ball. November was just about to answer when suddenly the door to the office opened.
"House!" Cuddy huffed angrily, after she had pushed the door open with a wild gesture. "Is it true that you are treating patients in your own office space as well now?" she asked with a certain indignation in her voice, her eyes on him with a chastising look until they fell on November. "Ah, yes," she commented and in an unfriendly tone said, "I see already. You don´t have to say a thing anymore now, so it is true."
Bewildered by the appearance of his superior, House looked up at Cuddy and with a shrug said, "She is not my patient."
Cuddy snorted derisively. "And how Miss Mevon is your patient," she replied harshly and continued with her lecture. "House, you know the rules. And even you have to stick to them! Patients belong in their patient rooms and not in the offices of their attending physicians for some afternoon naps." Cuddy´s critical look moved back to November. "Miss Mevon," she began, making an effort for a calm tone, "I would like to urgently request you to leave this room now and go back into your patient room."
November also was surprised by Cuddy's sudden appearance. Incredulously, she listened to her and then gave House a meaningful glance. November looked at Cuddy, whose last words still resonated in her unpleasantly. "… this here is quasi my workplace…"
Cuddy's irritated glance moved from November back to House.
"Yes, indeed," he confirmed and unobtrusively glanced at November sideways. With unfailing levelheadedness, House added, "She is my personal hooker."
"She…what!?" Cuddy gasped out and looked at November in a way screaming „This cannot be true".
"Oh, yes, even if it doesn´t look like it – it´s true. He really pays well. There is a surcharge for unusual locations, of course," November answered, pointing in the office with her arm and for good measure added with a smile, "No worries, we do it with rubber. I´m not going to make him a dad."
Expressing her indignation, Cuddy stared at the two of them saucer eyed and with open mouth, unable to say anything.
"And no I´m not going to grab his crotch now to prove that I´m his hooker – sphere of privacy, you understand," November made use of Cuddy´s silent indignation to make it sound even more unambiguous.
„You… you…" Cuddy stuttered shakily and did not manage a clear sentence. Both House and November watched amusedly how images formed before Cuddy´s inner eye, which they did not want to picture themselves. That she visibly blushed on top of it, increased the enjoyment of the two of them. The staff manager surely had not expected such a drastic reply.
With a threatening gesture, Cuddy´s index finger pointed to House while she still was gasping for air like a carp. "You…," she started breathlessly and could not avoid that her voice slipped and sounded squeaky. "You… You are simply disgusting House! Take note of that! Your behavior is disgusting!" With a bright red head, Cuddy turned around and tottered away, her high heels resonating on the polished floor.
November looked at House who was standing at his desk in the meantime and leafing through a patient file. "Well," he said sluggishly and looked up from the record, "There are people who can´t bear the truth." His bitter features changed to an impish grin.
"True," November replied carelessly and pulled up the zipper of her sweat jacket. "I need bulletproof pajamas," she remarked decidedly and her eyes asked House, "you know where I can get some?"
"Good idea," House commented with a volatile smile and then continued to read in the thin file attentively.
November kept her album pressed close to her chin between both her palms. Her eyes closed, she whispered tonelessly, "I´m so glad that you´re back." House glanced at her – from afar, she looked as if she was praying. Like this, she remained for a few seconds, before she put the album down again next to her carefully. November´s eyes followed House's movements. Like in slow motion, she perceived each of his motions. He quickly leafed through the pages and skimmed, with slightly contracted brows, the text.
Unexpectedly, House closed the file and set it on a stack of other files. He raised his head and looked at November who had sat down in his chair again, wrapped up in the wool blanket. She looked tired and exhausted. "I´ll have to get some work done now," he uttered without motivation and with a bit of regret that he could not stay with her any longer. "After all, my team is waiting to be blessed with a few uncomfortable truths as well!" he added cynically and put on an important air.
November gave a laugh. "I´m sure the uncomfortable truths raise the fun factor many times over," she replied to his statement with a smile, in the hope that it cheered him up, as she could hear the discontent in his voice.
House just was about to leave his office when he paused once more. With his free hand, he took the ball from the bowl and tossed it at November´s lap. "Don´t get bored," he said and winked at her. His hand already on the door handle, he turned around once more, with a treacherous and guileful grin, he casually said, "I´m expecting you this afternoon in the broom closet on the second floor, by the way." Before November could reply anything, he was gone. "And don´t forget to bring the crop, sweetheart!" House called along the corridor and so loudly that not only November could hear it at that!
November could not deny herself a roguish grin and called after him, "I'm looking forward to seeing you, Honey!" Snuggled up in the wool blanket and protected by Bally and her companion, she fell asleep before long. She simply was too exhausted to pass the morning in this office awake. Her sleep was very deep, as her body still had to regenerate from the night before. Like this, she passed the following hours, firmly wrapped in the blanket and lying in the chair. Again, she dreamt. This time, her dreams were rather chaotic and incoherent. "Follow the rabbit," a voice whispered in her ear. An ear, however, did not even exist, as she was a stone. Smooth and round, she lay on the forest ground. Immobile. Not able to do anything but watch. There was the Cheshire cat, rolling past her in her wheelchair while glaring so weirdly…
It was late morning. House sat in November´s wheelchair, ducked his head a bit and narrowed his eyes to small slits. The track was clear. Before him lay the corridor of Wilson´s oncology ward. Here, November would not look for her wheelie in any case.
He had obtained cycling gloves and a baseball cap. He had put on the cap the wrong way around to his aerodynamic advantage, so that the brim pointed backwards. While the gloves gave him more grip and were supposed to keep his hands from sliding off while gripping or even from burning them on the protective rubber coating of the push ring when decelerating. House had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his light blue shirt over his elbows. His sunglasses topped off his appearance. House's feet stood safely on the footplate, while his gloved hands nervously gripped for the push rings and he was rolling forth and back on the spot impatiently. He was ready to go.
House could not simply let November get away with having purloined his ball without revenge. Sure, he had "borrowed" her album for a few days, but that was different. You could listen to music with an MP3 player in a pinch, but his ball or her wheelchair were irreplaceable! And so, even before lunch break, House had sneaked back into his office and taken the wheelchair with him, escaping notice while November kept sleeping placidly.
A shrewd grin spread over House´s face. He took a deep breath, clutched the push ring firmly, left and right, and rolled off. He made use of the long straight to accelerate. November´s wheelchair was surprisingly light and could be put in motion with little effort. Then came the first corner already. House drove the wheelchair nimbly and swiftly – but yet with acceptable speed – taking the turn. If one compared the lower speed and the narrow turns, then November´s wheelchair was almost as maneuverable as his bike! Which contributed none the less to the fact that he felt quite at home in this thing. Again, a long straight track lay before him. House raised his arms to build momentum to accelerate even more. Let´s see how fast one can go in such a thing? went through his head, when unexpectedly, an obstacle appeared in front of him. From one of the side corridors came, at this very moment, a nurse, who was carrying a tray full of medication cups. Skillfully, House drove a swerve around the nurse who jumped aside with a scared scream, clenching her tray. House's grin became still wider and he managed to speed up the wheelchair on the last few meters, until another corner slowed him down again. Now it was slowly becoming more of a challenge! Not far from him, a small group of people stood, chatting. "Move along!" he called out loudly, speeding towards the small cluster of people, which he could not possibly pull around. Confused, the people turned their heads before they scattered, pressing tightly against the wall of the corridor. House laughed sovereignly, as he drove past the sheepishly looking nursing staff and steered towards the next corner. About 10 yards in front of him, the corridor made a sharp turn to the right. He slowed down a bit, closed his hand around the push ring as firmly as he could and accelerated as much as possible with his left hand to master this corner as well. Whizzing along the corridors in this thing, was almost as much fun as speeding along the highway on his bike!
At breakneck speed, House, who slowly began to gasp from the effort, rushed along the hallway unstoppably. But, just after a few yards, he saw a door opening at the end of the corridor. It was Wilson´s office. The oncologist stopped in the middle of the floor, thunderstruck. He almost did not trust his eyes and took him a moment until he had recognized his friend without a doubt. "Make way, Wilson!" House yelled and moved closer without slowing down his speed. As if he had grown roots, Wilson did not budge. "Make way!" House´s voice resonated down the corridor again. Wilson, however, did not move even an inch. Very well then, House thought, if he asked for it. Now to see how strong his nerves were. House narrowed his eyes and let his hands accelerate the wheelchair once more. Getting faster and faster, he rolled towards Wilson. Perplexedly, the oncologist stared at the bizarre phenomenon which was speeding towards him without slowing down. Oh, his friend really was brave, flashed through House´s head. Not much time remained for Wilson to make way. Only a few more moments, then… Was that it? Wilson´s time was up. Only one option remained to avoid the unpleasant collision – for all he was worth, House clenched the push rings, trying to stop the wheelchair. He felt the painful strain, spreading from his wrists, along his tendons, into the muscles of his upper arms and was thankful in this moment that he wore gloves. Just a hand-width in front of Wilson, he came to a stop.
With a greedy look and completely out of breath, House looked up to his friend.
"Kill-joy," he hurled at him and gasped for air.
Only slowly, Wilson found his tongue. In front of him, indeed, House was sitting in a wheelchair!? "What the hell are you thinking you´re doing there?", he asked, excessively pronouncing every single word.
A wide grin mixed with House´s quick breathing. "Are you blind?" he asked with an ironic tone, rolling back half a yard. Both hands closed around the push rings, he ordered the left one to move forwards, while pulling the right one back and thus demonstrating an artful turn on the spot, which reminded of an artistic pirouette.
Wilson watched the performance, worthy of being shown in a circus. This simply could not be House! But it was! And he really wore a baseball cap and a pair of cycling gloves… Furrowing his brow strainedly, Wilson tried to sort his thoughts. "How are you looking anyway?" he asked in a slightly mocking tone, after having scrutinized House for a long while silently.
"I´m riding a race!" his friend replied cheerfully and turned into the other direction now.
"A race driver?" Wilson repeated confusedly and raised his right eyebrow. "In a wheelchair?" His eyes fell on the spoke guard. The pattern seemed familiar. "Hey," Wilson began, remembering in this moment where he had seen the drawing before, "I know that pattern! Isn´t this November´s wheelchair?"
"It is!" House replied curtly, after having finished his last turn and stopping the wheelie.
Still not quite sure whether this here was not just a bad dream after all, Wilson asked, "And she gave it to you, just like that?"
"No." House replied unapologetically, a smile on his face.
"But you asked her?" the oncologist tossed in, even though he already sensed that this question was superfluous.
"Wilson," House began exuberantly, pulled his sunglasses a bit down and looked up to his friend, puppy-eyed, "have I ever asked you whether I may have some of your lunch?"
"No," Wilson confirmed and gave a slight sigh, "How silly I am, assuming that you´d obey the rules of politeness even once."
"Hey," house flew into a rage and moved so close to Wilson with the wheelchair that he had to retreat a bit, "I was polite! I didn´t run you over!"
Shaking his head, the oncologist looked down on his friend. "Come on,", Wilson said invitingly and finished the sentence – even though he knew very well that it would be to his disadvantage – with the words, "let´s go for lunch!"
*line and inspiration for the dream from the song Great White Bear by Dear Reader
**Quote from House, episode „House Training / Sündenbock mit Freunden" S03E20